Eli in the Big, Bad Pokéworld
by Kenrovan
Summary: Eli Singleton is a young delinquent, who starts his journey to become the best pokémon trainer a little later than his peers. He wants to test his mettle against the very best in the world, and isn't afraid to do anything he can to make sure he trains the best and strongest team. Watch how he makes his own legend in a world that is stranger than he would have ever dared to imagine.


**Hello future fans! (hopefully)  
**

**This story is going to be my first project on , and while it is rated M for the cussing and violence, it is meant for people over the age of 14. **

**My goal with this story is to paint a more gritty, violent and unforgiving pokémon world. However, you won't really notice it that much this chapter. It's mostly an introduction and a plot setter for the rest of the story. I've incorporated elements from other stories, but mostly from the official pokémon manga, which I can definitely recommend.  
**

**Hopefully I've peaked your interest.  
**

**Ps Sorry for any inconsistencies, spelling and grammatical errors on my part. I'm still in learning. Pointing out any you notice is always appreciated, as is constructive feedback.  
**

**Signed, Kenrovan.  
**

* * *

**Eli in the Big, Bad Pokéworld**

_**Chapter One** _

"Good morning, Mr. Q.", Eli said, to a seemingly empty room.

A computer-like voice answered him from over the couch's armrest, "Good morning, Master Eli."

Eli grinned foolishly at the shiny form of his brand new, not to mention first official pokémon. He had bought it online, dirt-cheap, via a black market website. For a few extra bucks they even programmed it to be able to speak English. And since it was a Virtual pokémon, they could just send it over with an e-mail after the payment was verified. As soon as you opened the e-mail the pokémon would pop-out of your screen in a flash of light. Would've given me a scare if the e-mail hadn't given me a warning before hand. Handy, that.

It seemed that Porygon aren't very popular with trainers because they were man-made. People just didn't trust pokémon whose every action is something that has been programmed. It had a reputation of being a robotic and soulless being, something unnatural.

'Bullshit, of course. They're just afraid because it's something different. Something they don't fully understand, nor want to.', Eli thought as he looked at his Porygon2, bathing in the morning sun rays streaming through the kitchen window.

'Their loss', he thought 'cuz their fucking brilliant'.

At 14 years and 7 months of age, Eli Singleton stood at 5'8". Having always been tall for his age, he often got teased for this and the fact that he was an orphan. That quickly stopped once he got physical a few times when he was eleven. Now, his height served as a definite advantage in more than just fights. People thought he was older than he was, so he could do more stuff that other kids his age couldn't do. And he got more respect from people at face-value than the other kids.

Ever since Eli was little, he dreamt of capturing, training and fighting strong pokémon.

He didn't know where this fantasy came from, but he supposed it started out with a high level battle he saw on live TV once. An all or nothing battle between a huge Steelix and a nasty-looking Kadabra. He still remembered the furious exchange of earth-shattering strength versus flashy psychic power.

Eli dreamed of someday being filthy rich and becoming a world renown pokémon trainer. Whichever came first. He even had a list prepared of all the pokémon he would like to have. It counted about 64 pokémon in total, he wasn't greedy... much. He wanted to have at least half of these captured before he took on the world championships.

It seemed unrealistic even to his optimistic self.

So, to take a step closer to his dreams, he's been working half-time at a lot of different night or weekend-jobs since he was twelve. So what if it was illegal to work at his age. If his employer's didn't care and treated him fairly, then he didn't care either. He hadn't been caught or even checked up on by the authorities. It seemed like they didn't care either, hah.

He had worked as a grunt at a pokémon farm up in north-west Pallet City, a pokémon research center off route 1, a breeding farm in south Pallet City and pokémon fishing firm in south-west Pallet. You could say he had some experience around pokémon.

Pokémon training was hard work. That's one of the first things you learn in school, besides the usual stuff they teach you, like maths and survival training.

The time, energy and money you had to spend on training an average pokémon to a suitable level for battling gyms was mind-numbing. Add to that the cost of your own travelling, as you can't become a highly successful pokémon trainer without winning badges, and other things you might need or want along the way... Let's just say it's a discouraging number for most. And other people (kids really) found out the hard way about the troubles trainers go through if you aren't suitably prepared.

But if you want it badly enough, no amount of money should be able to stop you. That was part of his motto in life. So... he had to search for other ways to get his money, aside from his jobs.

Desperate as he was - and really still is, especially when all his friends from school started their journey and left him behind, he started dealing drugs. Soft-drugs or whatever you want to call it, mostly weed and hash. Small time really, but it kept the money flowing in steadily. It would've been too suspicious for him to dump it all in a savings account, as someone was bound to raise the flag on suspicion a foul play. So he saved it all up in his private stash of cash he kept in a secret location.

He didn't think dealing was that big of a deal really - hash or weed never hurt anyone, until he almost got busted one April holiday in the subway near his neighbourhood by a cop squad patrolling with a huge Growlithe by their side. Never had he had such a nerve racking experience before. It seemed like _forever_ until the patrol passed him by and turned the corner.

He got exceedingly lucky that day, since he got away safely with his block of 40 gr hash, hermetically sealed tucked away in his backpack, and he vowed that he would take his business more seriously. He couldn't afford to get busted, or else he'd never get the green light for a trainers licence.

That's not to say that you should always do it the hard way. As in the expensive and time-consuming way. No, Eli believed he had finally found his ticket to a brighter future as he looked at his Porygon-2, shimmering in a fresco of colours as it activated his powers and turned on the TV in the community room of the orphanage.

Without a trainers license, which was terribly expensive, anyone older than twelve could own exactly one pokémon of the E or D-class. These classes classify all known pokémon according to the average strength of a species and the level of danger they posed to humans. Of all of these pokémon, Porygon are the only exception. It's classified as a D-class pokémon despite it's strength.

Why that is, he didn't know. Because Porygon could easily be classified as an upper B-class pokémon, so it would stand to reason that he'd be classified as such.

He thought that it probably had something to do with the fact that Porygon was man-made and programmed, and was presumed to be able to be fully controlled by it's master, no exception.

'It doesn't matter', he thought 'Q and I get along splendidly, and he's pretty strong too', Eli grinned 'not to mention dead useful'.

"Mr. Q, could you put on the TV for me, please?"

"Certainly, master Eli.", the robotic voice replied. No sooner had he finished or the TV on the wall flashed on.

As he went into the kitchen to get some grub, he thought back to the battle he had the other day with a twelve-or-something year old kid.

* * *

_Flashback to yesterday:_

"I challenge you to a battle!" came the loud and slightly high-pitched exclamation from somewhere behind him.

Eli stopped walking, his black and white sneakers scuffing the ground as he halted. Lazily half-turning to look at the snot-nosed brat that was giving him stink-eye about 10 feet away.

He briefly considered to tell the kid he wasn't a trainer, but something he saw gave him pause.

'He's only got one pokémon on him', Eli thought, eyeing the kids standard-issue belt.

'Probably a newbie that just got started on his journey. How nice to have folks that can buy you all you'll ever need.', he thought uncharitably, taking in the fancy-looking clothes the kid was wearing, not to mention the bloody expensive pokégear the noob was rocking.

So instead he replied, "How much you wanna bet, kid? Cuz I ain't playin' for no pocket change, yeah?"

The kid looked slightly taken aback by the gruff answer, not the mention the delinquent attitude, and looked slightly intimidated now.

"Uhm I only got 800 beli on me, mister", the kid said demurely, but continued with some regained bluster, "How about 50 beli?"

Eli could hardly believe what he was hearing, 'Is this guy an idiot or what? He just told a stranger in the middle of a deserted street _known_ for it's high crime rates, how much money he had on him. And 800 beli is no pocket change! I'd have to work my ass off for a week straight for that kind of money.'

While his face remained a blank, a wicked grin formed in his mind. He quickly decided to milk this fat, juicy cow for all it was worth.

He scoffed at the kid, turning around to walk away. "Shit kid, don't waste my time."

The kid, panicking slightly, yelled: "W-wait! How about a 100 beli?"

Eli kept walking at a leisurely pace, yet slowed down some. Lets see how many golden eggs this goose would drop before he pounced.

Running up to Eli from behind, the kid grabbed the right arm sleeve of his leather biker jacket.

Swiftly turning around, an angry looking Eli shrugged him off violently. The yet unnamed brown haired kid back-pedalled hastily from the aggressive looming frame of the previously laid-back teen.

"Don't fucking touch me, ya snot-nosed brat. If you want to battle me, you'll have to battle for all you have.", he said coolly to the frightened looking kid, who had fallen on his ass in his attempt to put distance between the two of them.

The brunette looked like he wanted to run away then and there, but all thought's of fleeing left his mind at the comment that followed.

"If your too much of a chicken-shit to face me because you might lose your money, then run along home to your mommy, ya runt.", Eli followed up.

"I'm not a coward!", came the heated reply of the loud boy. "You're on mister! One on one, winner get's 800 beli!"

"Huh, you got stones kid, I'll give you that.", Eli said, approving of the kids reply. 'What a dumbass.', he thought gleefully.

The kid ran a ways off, leaving a sizeable birth in the middle of the street for them to do battle.

At 8.12 in the morning, it was still a bit dark out in the north-west corner of Pallet City. This district was mostly void of people this time of day, because one, it was cold and two, this is where the poor and unemployed people of Pallet City lived, to put it bluntly. And were long lasting unemployment and poverty went, crime usually followed.

Both opponents grabbed their pokéball and released the pokémon within to do battle.

"Go Bulby!", the loud-mouthed kid shouted as he threw his red and white ball.

A young looking Bulbasaur appeared in a flash of red light. It's cry filling the eerie silence of the dark morning.

"Your up.", came the calm voice of Eli, the red half of the pokéball snapping open and the red light jumping out onto the ground where it materialized.

The strange, rigid, duck-like pokémon was completely silent as it sat in front of his trainer.

"Time-out!", yelled the pokémon trainer as he reached for something in his vest pocket.

Pulling out a red book-like device, the boy pointed it at the strange pokémon he had never seen before.

Uninterested but slightly jealous of the pokédex the kid had at his disposal, Eli used the time to think up a solid strategy.

Not that he really needed one, he thought, slightly bored as he looked at the kid who was already starting to sweat as he listened to the robotic voice of his pokédex. This was going to be an easy first battle. Good thing he learned all he could about Porygon2 before he bought it.

As the kid put his device away he said "Nothing we can't handle Bulby! Ready? Go Bulby, use Tackle!"

"Bulba!" the grass starter pokémon exclaimed before it stormed at Porygon2 with vigour.

Observing the young grass type didn't have much speed, Eli commanded his pokémon: "Mr. Q, let him get close, use agility to dodge to the side and blast him with Psybeam."

"Very well, master Eli." came the smooth echo of Porygon2's robotic reply in response as the pokémon executed the order to the letter.

The inexperienced dual grass and poison type didn't stand a chance, really.

The purple beam rocketed out of the beak-like protrusion of the virtual pokémon before the Bulbasaur even registered it had missed it's target.

Purple psychic energy washed over the pokémon as it was blasted of it's feet and sent rolling on it's side.

An instant K.O.

Eli grinned. Mr. Q was strong.

The deafening silence that followed was broken by Eli who returned Q to his pokéball.

"Looks like it's my win, kid", he said matter-of-factly, walking towards the kid.

The snot-nosed kid seemed to be in a state of shock, as he numbly recalled his Bulby.

"The money.", Eli demanded when he reached the kid.

"...Oh, yeah..." came the dull reply. The young brunette reached into his trousers and pulled out his wallet. Reaching out and hesitantly handing over four bills, he asked haltingly: "H-How did you...?"

Snatching op the bills and folding them neatly into his back pocket, Eli finished his sentence for him.

"-beat you so fast?", he asked the boy cheekily, happy to have earned some easy cash.

The boy nodded numbly.

"Cuz we're stronger than you, obviously.", came the flat reply. "Go home kid, get some more money from your parents before you head out into the big, bad pokéworld. And train your Bulbasaur before you do battle with it, idiot. You might last longer next time.", ignoring how hypocritical that last statement was.

Eli turned and walked away from a confused and shattered boy. 'What kind of dickhead names his Bulbasaur, Bulby anyway?'

* * *

Eli smiled to himself. Hustling people gave him a warm feeling of satisfaction. Especially if it was from stupid snot-nosed brats with a loud mouth.

He went to sit on the couch next to Porygon2 watching a nature channel about Gloom in the wild, his small laptop on his lap as he surfed the net for second-hand pokégoods and good deals, while wearing black shades on his nose to block the morning sun streaming through the window to his left.

He suddenly spotted a very good deal, that had only been posted five hours ago by a dude that ran a goods shop in Johto. For 20'000 beli, you could have 50 Great Balls shipped over to you in two days for an added fee of 120 beli.

Hastily calculating with the calculator on his laptop, he discovered that it was basically a discount of a whopping 10'000 beli! That's a staggering one third of the standard asking price. Even trainers didn't get a discount _that_ big. Hopefully there wasn't anything wrong with the equipment. Oh well, he could always get his money back if that was the case.

Shaking with excitement he quickly clicked on it to make the deal. He didn't need to fill in any personal details any more because he was registered on the site. Then he confirmed the deal about three more times, before he got a personal message confirming his purchase.

Calming down, but still happy with his purchase, he browsed throughout the rest of the site. He had been waiting on a deal like that for a week now.

_Pokédeals_ was an internet shopping website used by private individuals and small time businesses. They have the opportunity to sell the goods they couldn't get rid off fast enough for lower tax rates on the web. This was done so they wouldn't have to store things away, because storing things away costs money too.

He was still searching for good deals on some healing potions and a decent pokégear, but it looked like it would have to wait for the time being.

He probably couldn't afford it right now anyway, because today after school he would be applying for his trainer-licence at the Pallet City Research Lab led by Old man Oak and his grandson Gary Oak, a former Champion.

The application was in fact a screening to see if you were qualified to become a good trainer.

'A pretty arrogant point of view if you think about it. Who the fuck were they to decide who would be a good trainer in the future and who wouldn't? But well, he guessed they were the best sort of people to do so anyway.

And he could agree that a screening was necessary. You didn't want to hand over a pokémon you raised from birth to a nut job who wanted to rob banks with it, now did you?

But then again, did it really have to be so fucking expensive?'

From what he heard from old friends and classmates who took the application when they were 11, the screening was pretty simple. You had to give some blood and tissue to test, for god knows what. And your fingerprints, so they could check you record. If you had a history of crime you were a definite 'no' before they even got to the tests. Goodbye, good money!

The tests were in fact a psyche evaluation followed by basic pokémon theory. If you passed, you were invited over for an interview a few days or weeks later.

After that, and if he had the money for it, he could get a pokédex – which functioned as a license and passport, a starter pack and a starter pokémon of his choice.

Eli was a little bit nervous about it all to be honest. He only had one shot a this. The application alone would put huge dent in his savings. He didn't know if he could bear it if he invested all that money into it, only to get nothing in return. If he thought about all the time and energy he traded for all that money and how it would all be waisted if he didn't pass the exam...

'Fuck, way to put pressure on yourself dumbass', Eli thought savagely to himself as he got up from his seat and headed towards his room.

Getting up before the other residents was a habit he shared with only one other, someone he could sometimes call a partner in crime and other times his brother from another mother.

"Yo.", came the morning greeting from a sleepy youth called M.J. Keenan, nicknamed "Thriller", a reference to the abbreviation of his first name which spelled the initials off Michael Jackson, the King of Pop. It was a sad attempt at humour by Eli, when they met 3 years ago in this very orphanage. The nickname only really stuck when people began giving it a more sinister meaning, a consequence of his... troublemaking tendencies.

"Hey. You gonna go to school today, or what? I'm about to go get ready.", Eli questioned.

"Fuck that. That cunt from maths keeps getting on my case, I ain't goin' back there for a while." , the dyed blond answered while opening the fridge. Ducking his head in the huge fridge, he returned fire, "Don't you have like, a big appointment today with that old lab guy uptown? Whatcha going to school for, don't you have some reviewing to do or somethin'?"

"Nah man, you know I gotta show my face to Misses Toadface today or I ain't gonna get my degree at the end of the semester.", Eli answered walking towards the stairs. "Then what the hell are you gonna do all day? You know Biggie ain't gonna like you doing jack shit all day.", he called over his back as he reached the stairs.

Biggie is in charge of running the orphanage. Being a orphan himself, and mostly growing up on the streets of Pallet and Viridian City, he wanted to take in the local strays under his wing and make sure we had a slightly better life than him. Or at least somewhere to go home to. For this reason, and the fact that he could whoop just about anyone's ass, he commanded the respect and obedience of the collection of orphans. Which isn't easy considering about half of them are in some sort of street gang.

"I think I'm gonna go check out the shop, and see what Reggie is cooking up. Maybe he'll let me tinker on some beauties he's got lined up.", Keenan answered pouring some milk in bowl of cereal.

Reggie "The Wrench" Rooks is the gangboss of the Pallet City's _Flight of Crows_, largely a delinquent biker gang, also known as the F.O.C. on the streets. He owns a garage and compound in north-central Pallet. It's the base of his operations as ganghead and head-mechanic.

The strategic placement of the garage was – while entirely coincidental - the main reason why they were able to successfully hold the entire north section of the City with an additional big chunk of the central part as their territory, for almost four years running now.

They controlled the population of a total of three schools and 12 streets with a gang membership count of over 400 people. The eight core-members and individual leaders, all had an average of about 50 people under their command. These core-members were all good friends of Reggie and loyal to a fault. Their loyalty earned by his strength in fights as well as in pokémon battle.

The people of Pallet, and even those of Viridian, recognised the infamous Honchkrow logo that was used as a coat of arms by the F.O.C. Members wore hats stylized after the unique hat-like feathers of the Honchkrow, or a leather biker jacket with 'F.O.C.' and a white Honchkrow in flight à la tribal emblazoned on the back. It inspired fear in the harts of outsiders and it was a symbol of unity and pride for the people who whore it on their backs.

It's important to note that the F.O.C. primarily existed as a means to protect the city from rival gangs in Viridian City, not to do harm on what they considered their own people. Well, they did occasionally deal in mischief on their own turf, but that was just to keep rival gangs from springing up in Pallet City or when they needed something.

The police even had an agreement (kept under the table) with Reggie to keep the rival gangs from Viridian from wreaking havoc in Pallet. This was mostly because they didn't have the manpower to deal with it themselves. In exchange, the F.O.C. got a lot of leniency in the face of charges brought against them for disturbing the public peace etc. A lot of the times the police would just look the other way to avoid unnecessary paperwork.

'Thriller' Keenan himself had often gotten off with slaps on the wrist where there should've been cuffs, the delinquent in question mused as he plopped himself onto the community sofa in front of the TV with his bowl of cereal.

Eli just stared and said "Whatever, tell Reggie I said 'hey'." He turned and jogged up the stairs to his room to get ready. He had a bus to catch.

* * *

Back on the couch, Keenan munched on some flakes, pondering about his friend, while the TV chattered on about Gloom's natural habitat in the background.

Eli Singleton had always been somewhat of an outsider. Different. A loner who did what he wanted, when he wanted and above all _knew_ what he wanted in life. And to achieve his goals he wouldn't take shit from no-one and nothing.

I always had the feeling that he had the strength of mind _and_ fists to make almost anything happen if he wanted it bad enough.

He remembered the time when they first met.

Eli was a scrawny thing back then, but that didn't stop him from punching and kicking the living daylights out of a gangbanger twice his size. The douche was a senior that went to the same mid-school as me, and ruled it with numbers. I was a junior member of another faction in the school at the time, that later grew out to be the F.O.C.

Anyway, here I was, ten and half years old and walking down a mostly empty street as if I owned the place, when I recognised a kid that lived in the same orphanage as me getting messed with by Kenny Stoker, a local top dog and ruler of Murkrow Mid.

Kenny 'Butcher' Stoker was a big guy for his 14 years of age, standing at 5'5" and weighing a 150 pounds. He dwarfed the scrawny Eli, who stood at 5 ft and weighed little over 70 lbs. The kid kept his eyes on the ground, his long hair covering most of his face.

At the time, I remembered being surprised by the fact that Kenny didn't seemed to be surrounded by some of his cronies. That was usually his M.O., but apparently not that day. He probably felt secure enough now that his reputation as a top delinquent had spread throughout this part of the city.

I remembered feeling pity for the kid and hesitating about whether I should go and help him out or not. Would it be worth the trouble? I mean, sure, we come from the same orphanage and all but it's not as if we were buddies or anything.

Before I even knew what had happened I was standing in front of Stoker and telling him to "fuck off" and to "leave the kid alone", and getting a big, meaty fist to the face for my troubles.

It hurt so much I don't even remember being in pain...in the beginning. Hah. I do remember Eli though. Eli Singleton... who knew such a scrawny-looking guy, could pack such a devastating punch. With a ferocity I had never thought possible from the melancholic bastard, he stepped in between Stoker and me, and landed a right straight on Stoker's jaw. Even today, I would swear to you that I saw Stoker's feet clear off the ground from my downed position, before the douche landed like sack of bricks.

But Eli didn't stop there. He kept kicking and punching an unconscious Stoker wildly until I pulled him off and told him to stop. The dark look in his eyes that I saw that day still sends shivers up my spine 'till this very day.

Since that day I've never doubted the thought that Eli Singleton was capable of cold-blooded murder.

Then, after he let himself be pulled off, he pushed me away and asked me: "Why did you help me?"

And I said to him why the hell I wouldn't help him. He looked perplexed by my answer, then looked around the street where some onlookers were staring, but never stopping to help.

After a while, he turned back to me and smiled. It was a great smile.

"Thanks."

We've been best friends ever since really.

After the fight which "killed" the top dog at Murkrow Mid – an all-boys midschool, the F.O.C. stepped up and took over the school in a spectacular battle royal. For this battle, all the small time gangs that Stoker couldn't conquer fused together to create the F.O.C. with Reggie The Wrench at the helm as the senior and strongest member. Outnumbered though they were, the core-members of the F.O.C. and their underlings were made from tougher stuff than the average hoodlum and had a sense of unity that Stoker's Army lacked. This ultimately led towards the change in leadership at a still bloody and vandalized Murkrow Mid and later on even Murkrow High.

As a junior member of the F.O.C. I too participated in the battle that made the F.O.C. soar toward the very top of Pallet City. I got the scars to prove it. Back then, I tried to get Eli to come with, but he refused, saying he didn't feel like it and he was going to go fishing.

In the end he did show up halfway through though, saving my ass again. Don't get me wrong, I can more than take care of myself in any fight. I wasn't called Thriller Keenan for show; it's because I love a good fight and can kick ass appropriately. But I was only 11 years old at the time, and taking on a crew of guys 2 and 3 years older than me. Basically biting off more than I could chew, when out off nowhere Eli flashes in and super-stomps a block-headed kid trough a window. We fought back-to-back that day for the first time, a precursor for the future in any case.

Afterwords I Introduced him to Reggie, hoping he would decide to join. Reggie had heard of Eli's growing reputation and more importantly what he had done for me during the "Battle Royale", and told me he wanted to meet this kid. So I set up a meeting at the hide-out, hoping Eli would decide to join. He met Reggie, but he refused the offer to join. When asked why, he would say: "I don't do well in groups.". And that was that. After that he kind of became an honorary member, but rarely if never participated in raids, defending turf or any gang-related stuff basically.

I never got why he was being such a hard-ass about it for a guy who clearly loved to fight, until he told me he wanted to become a trainer and couldn't be caught doing questionable stuff. No guy with a record could get a trainer-licence, that was common knowledge. Well not until his record was swiped clean after 18. But people finished school at 16 and got jobs. If they wanted to be a trainer, they started before mid school or after. They didn't wait 2 years after mid school, to then become a trainer, unless you first wanted to specialize in pokémon by attending Murkrow High or some other snob high school. The basic concept was: if you're not considered an adult yet and if you wanted to be a trainer before you were 18, you shouldn't fuck around with the law.

'It almost makes me regret having pulled off all the shit I did.', Keenan thought, munching on the last of his cereal. 'I suppose, if I really wanted to become a trainer, I could have Reggie pull some strings for me. He still owes me for last months raid blow up."

At that moment, Eli bounded down the stairs dressed in school uniform with his backpack, and with a quick "bye" raced down the hall to catch his bus. He then came running back into the community room, recalled Porygon2 and went on his way again.

Keenan took the remote and swapped channels, thinking 'I guess I could go work-out too. After Reggie's.'

* * *

Eli got of the bus, near Dr Oak's lab at the edge of the city. He had just spent all day in school listening to lectures on chemical reactions and looking out the window at nothing in particular. Now it was time for what was probably the most important day of his life. He felt like puking.

Fingering the smooth surface of the pokéball holding Mr. Q, he went towards the big door of the lab on top of a set of stairs, which he presumed was the entrance. He hid the pokéball in his backpack, rang the doorbell and waited.

While he waited, he took the time to appreciate the intricate design of the big door. It depicted a birds-eye view of the old Pallet Town from way back, before the opening of the Pallet City Gym led by Ash Ketchum, the world renown Master Trainer. One of his more prestigious titles.

'That's one man I'll wait a few more years before facing.', Eli thought, 'If I even get to that.'

To say Ash Ketchum was a fearsome opponent in a pokémon battle is like saying Team Rocket are bunch of naughty school yard kids. No, Ash Ketchum had been dominating the battle circuit for over a decade before he returned to settle as a Gym leader for Pallet City, and Team Rocket was the biggest organised crime syndicate that just kept coming back. They had been terrorizing Kanto for over 30 years now.

Further thoughts were pushed from his mind as the heavy looking door opened to reveal a young and pretty face with round glasses underneath braided hair, that was a curious shade of fuchsia.

"Hello, how can I help you?", the girl said in a soft and calm voice that were very easy on the ears.

Eli guessed her to be about seventeen or eighteen judging by her cup and waist size, letting his eyes flash up and down quick in assessment.

"Hello. I have an appointment with Professor Oak to apply for a trainer-licence.", Eli said in his best cultured voice. He had decided to front as a good student an productive member of society. It probably upped his chances of getting a licence if he wasn't his usual street-punk-self, he figured.

The young woman's eyes lit up in recognition and smile bloomed on her face. "Ah yes of course, Eli Singleton, right?"

"Ah, yes... But I'm afraid you've caught me off guard. I was kind off expecting Prof. Oak, and your most definitely not him. I've seen pictures.", Eli said good naturedly, smiling crookedly.

When she laughed, it crinkled her eyes slightly, revealing a flash of pearl whites and a sound reminiscent of a beautiful spring morning that electrified his skin and made it break out in delicious goosebumps.

"Oh I'm sorry, my name is Ashley Thompson. I'm Prof. Oak senior's assistant. Nice to meet you Eli.", she said sweetly.

Slightly at a loss for words, he just smiled and nodded once.

She continued, "We don't usually get much applicants this time of year. Come on in, I'll phone up Prof. Oak to let him know your here, while you can wait in the hall.", she said while opening the door wider and standing aside to invite him inside.

"Ah, yes.", Eli snapped into focus once more and smoothly entered the building, taking his first look inside.

Inside he was confronted with majesty for the first time in his young life. Depictions of legendary pokémon seemingly coming to life on the walls, a calming colour-scheme of greens, blues and and yellows framed by stony marble pillars. The floor and stairs shaped like a bow, were covered in exquisite carpets etched with the symbols of the many different elements of the pokémon world. Looking upwards, he got a glimpse of an elaborate painted ceiling portraying two bird-like pokémon he quickly identified to be Ho-oh and Lugia, surrounded by the elements they represented.

"It's beautiful isn't it?", Ashley stated.

"Yeah..."

"Come, this way.", she said closing the door and taking an immediate left, leaving the impressive welcoming hall behind them.

The hallway took them towards a reception desk which was equipped with an expensive looking PC and a name plaque holding the name of the young woman leading him and her title, Secretary- Assistant.

Ashley turned around and told him he could wait here while she video-phoned the professor.

He took a seat on a chair opposite the reception desk while she phoned up the professor on her computer. He quickly noticed a double door behind Ashley and a big screen pointed towards him on the wall right next to it.

Suddenly a male and slightly scratchy voice rang out: "Yes Ashley, what can I help you with? I'm in the middle of something at the moment."

Ashley responded, "Sorry for disturbing you Professor, but your five o'clock appointment is here waiting for you. His name is Eli Singleton and he's here to take the screening for his trainer-licence?"

"Oh...Oh yes, sorry, I completely forgot about that! Highly unusual this time of year.", the presumed Professor Oak exclaimed. "Would you be a dear and put me on the big screen, Ashley?", he said more collected.

"Of course Professor Oak.", Ashley said smiling.

The screen Eli had been looking at moments ago suddenly flashed on, revealing a face of advanced age and and a head of white hair with a wild quality to it. The old man's most striking feature were his eyes, which had a warm grey colour with a striking intelligent gleam.

"Nice to meet you Eli! My name is Professor Samuel Oak and I'll be the one assessing you today.", the Professor said boisterously from his position on the wall.

"Likewise. Thank you for having me, you have a beautiful place. And I hope I make the bill.", Eli replied.

Professor Oak laughed, "No need to be nervous kid! You sound like a nice young man and I'm sure you've prepared yourself well for this day.", the Professor replied kindly with a grandfatherly smile on his face. "Why don't you come on through to my lab, where we can get started on the physical examination. It's just beyond the double doors you see on the left of the screen. Miss Thompson will open the door for you."

"Come right this way, Eli.", she said with a sweet smile as she turned and walked over to a key-pad beside the double door.

She typed in a number and swapped a badge trough a scanner, to get the green light and a positive sounding beep that signified a valid entry. The doors opened wide with a smooth hiss, where another hallway with glass double doors greeted them. These two opened of their own accord when they drew near, to reveal a space that was doubtlessly a lab. He let his gaze wander over the doubtlessly high-tech scene.

Machines with blinking and flashing neon lights, chemicals that ranged from glowing all the colours of the rainbow to the most mundane bubbling murky brown, glass objects and other contraptions whose functions remained a mystery to him, a miasma of smells painted a decidedly unreal and bizarre picture for a slightly overwhelmed Eli. A constant constant dull hum of energy filled the lab, giving off powerful impression.

As he recovered from an onslaught of stimulation to his senses, he only half noted someone was greeting him.

"This joint is fuckin' amazing.", Eli stated, momentarily forgetting his company.

He heard a man chuckle and a girl giggle. He tensed slightly 'Shit.' and said turning around, "Did I say that out loud?", by way of greeting the Professor.

The old man laughed, a scratchy sound, before coughing in his hand once, "Yes, I'm afraid you did,", he said flatly, with a rather amused lilt to his tone, "but no worries, your language doesn't affect your scores what so ever, so you can drop the act son.", a more serious tone entered his voice "We did a background check on you before we accepted your application. You don't have to worry about being discriminated against because of where you grew up."

Rather embarrassed, Eli scratched his head saying, "Sorry, I don't know how these things go and I just didn't want to mess this up."

The old man nodded in understanding. He turned toward Ashley "Ashley, could you be a dear and take a blood and tissue sample of Eli while I start up the FBS?"

"Of course Professor.", the gorgeous young woman replied. "Come right this way, Eli.", she said, delicately motioning him over to a bench next to a doctors seat.

"Take off your shirt and jacket, and hop on this bench.", she ordered gently but firmly.

Taking of the jacket of his school uniform, sweater and button up shirt, Eli did as she asked and sat on the bench, his feet dangling of the ground, as he reminded himself to not lose sight of his backpack. As Ashley rummaged around in some drawers, the old man came over and started pushing buttons on an oven-like machine connected to the bench Eli was sitting on.

He pondered about that before being distracted by a sexy assistant in a white lab coat. After taking his blood and a swab of tissue, he was told to lie down.

"You've got quite an unusual amount of muscle tone for someone so young.", the melodic voice above him toned out.

Not quite knowing how he should take the comment and hiding his slight embarrassment by offering a sarcastic comment in reply, he turned his head to make eye-contact with her, "I'm almost 15. And are you asking me if I work-out Dr. Thompson?"

A cute blush bloomed on her cheeks. She smiled exasperated and fired back "Well, yes actually I am. It is quite unusual and I don't seem to remember having read about any kind of sport that would require such an intense physical effort on your application. Unless fishing is more intense than I knew it to be."

Hoh, she thought she could beat him at his own game? Lock and load gents!

He grinned, and replied with a wicked smile "Oh c'mon doc, admit it, you just couldn't wait to get me out of my shirt."

Watching her mouth fall open slightly in disbelief and her pretty face flare red, was satisfying. Until someone decided to remind them of his presence.

"Actually Eli, I'm quite curious myself.", Professor Oak interrupted, completely ignoring the by-play.

The sexy assistant jumped slightly, causing interesting effects on her chest area.

Eli flashed a grin in the old man's direction and replied, "I've no honest-to-God idea, Professor. I don't do anything that intense other than the odd job, now and again. Must've been born with a strong constitution, I guess."

"I see... Well, anyway, let's see what the Full Body Scan shows us."

I laid myself back down and the mechanic bench moved into the oven-like machine that the old man was fiddling with earlier. Once inside he was told to close his eyes and be as still as he could be. After a few minutes and getting quite bored, he was finely told that it was over.

"Okay, let's move on to the more physically intense portion of the test.", the old man announced.

* * *

It turned out that it was an endurance test. He had to run on a treadmill, with interconnected suction caps on his torso, and face. Then they had him jumping up and down for 15 minutes straight. Then, as a test, he was expected to punch and kick a cushioned area on a machine as hard as he could.

This last bit got him a bit suspicious. What use was this test anyway? Questions were racing through his brain as he sought an answer. Eli wasn't stupid, he knew that he was far from normal when it came to fighting. He didn't know what was abnormal about him that made him this way, but he did know that he didn't want the scientific community knowing about it. The fact that none of his contacts mentioned a physical, only made him more paranoid. Did they see something on that scan they took of his body? Or maybe there was something of about his blood or tissue?

Deciding to go with the common law of survival and not show his full strength here, he stepped up to the machine.

Making a show of effort, he punched without using his weight to deliver the blow. He did the same with his left hand.

At this point he was kind of frustrated with the test but he kept on a cool façade.

Then came the kick-portion of the test. He may have kicked harder than was his intention with both feet. But again, he wasn't sure. The tension was killing him, really. Was it enough to satisfy them? Hopefully they hadn't figured out he was pulling his punches.

The next test was a simple balance test where he had to step on a small platform and try to remain standing, while the platform tried to shake him off with increasing speed. He had to do this for a boring 20 minutes before he was told he could stop.

Finally, they had him do a concentration, reflex and hand-eye coordination test on a computer that was over before he even knew it. He had to rub some irritating spots out of his eyes though. 'Note to self: blink more when playing video games.'

The Professor came to greet him alone this time.

"Ah Eli, well done, you passed your physical examination. Let's get on to the psyche evaluation, okay?"

I nodded my consent and followed him to another room, while hoping everything would turn out okay.

* * *

It was a rather spartan room really, if you compared it to the rest of the facility. It had some closets, a couple of desks, a projector and a blackboard.

With a start he realized it was a classroom.

What happened next was too boring to describe. About five different tests that measured god-knows-what, compounded to over 500 questions he had to answer. Some of them he could've sworn he had answered at least two different times before! It was infuriating, and again mind-numbingly boring.

At last it was over. Hopefully he wasn't diagnosed as a psychotic nut job. It said a lot that he even doubted it himself.

Then came the part he was sure he could manage: Pokémon Theory.

The questions were ridiculously easy, but numbered in the hundreds. He sighed, he could've been blazing away on a stiff joint right now if it wasn't for this shit.

He looked out the window to his right.

'Looks like I have no hope of getting home before it's dark. Fuck.'

* * *

"Professor, he scored off the charts on the physical tests for someone his age! And his body... is he even human? I mean-"

"Ashley! Calm down, while I explain. I had my suspicions about this young man, before he even entered the lab.", the old Professor explained.

"What do you mean, you had your suspicions? About what?", she fired back, losing her cool.

"Calm down, Ashley.", he ordered "Let me explain. Before Eli came here, I had heard rumours of a kid by that same name that was able to knock out a nearly grown man with one punch. My contacts confirmed it was him. And what probably astonished you the most was the image on the FBS.", here he paused collecting his thoughts, "About what you saw, on the Full Body Scan... That was the skeleton of an Adapted. More specifically, a human born with a specific inclination to a certain element type. These elements correspond to the different types we might find in species of pokémon. For example Psychic or Fire. I believe this young man is Adapted to the Fighting type of the element spectrum."

"..."

Professor Oak sighed, "C'mon now Ashley, it's not like this is entirely new to you. There have been other famous examples of Adapted people! Like the famous Psychic Adapted Sabrina of Saffron, or the infamous Electric Adapted Cutler of Sunnyshore. Sure they are rare, but as a scientist you shouldn't be so shocked by something like this."

"...Professor Oak, the kid is barely 15 years old and he can kick in a brick wall if he put his mind to it. Never mind his superhuman reflexes and balance and whatever else he has that we haven't tested! I'm sorry if I'm having trouble with the concept of a super-powered kid running around, without guidance-"

"Yes I know, but there is nothing we can do about that. We're not his guardians Ashley, nor are we the authorities. And from what I've heard from my contacts, he can apparently look after himself quite well. He'll need it in this harsh and unforgiving world. All we can do right now is offer him information and training should he want it.", Oak reasoned and continued after a pause, "And your only 17 yourself Ashley. As I recall, you didn't need much guidance yourself at his age."

"...I suppose your right doctor. How did he do on the psyche evaluation?"

"...Hmm it paints an interesting picture to say the least. It's an interesting read as he's quite the paradox, but he's not insane as far as I'm concerned. He's extreme on some levels and yet very mild on other fronts. Very peculiar, but no reason to deny him his trainer-licence."

"I see. I look forward to the full report. He passes the initial phase then?"

"Yes I should think so. He has a near perfect grasp of basic pokémon theory, which was a breath of fresh air, I tell you. Some of the kids that come through here can't tell the difference between an ice and fire type, I swear."

"Oh your exaggerating Professor."

"Am I now...", was the Professors sarcastic reply. "Get some sleep Ashley, tomorrow is a bright new day, and I have a feeling it's going to be an interesting couple of weeks."

* * *

**End of Chapter One. R&R please!**

**Chapter Two preview: Eli Finds out more about himself and gets his starter pokémon, but it's not what he expected!  
**


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